No Soul Oneshot
by QueenOfTheFlame
Summary: Buffy finds out that Angel has no soul - but unsurprisingly, he doesn't just want to kill her...


"I don't understand." Buffy whispers softly, her voice filled with confusion and pain. "Why are you acting like this?"

Angel smirks. It's nothing at all like the warm, butter-wouldn't-melt, smiles she's so used to. Or the pain-of-hundreds-of-centuries smile that always twisted her gut. No, this is smug and dangerous, his eyes wild and wicked.

"Me? What are you talking about Buffy?" He takes a step towards her and she takes one back without realising.

"You're not him. Not Angel." She breathes softly, taking yet another step back.

"Wrong again Slayer. I am Angel. The real Angel. He was never Angel." He laughs in a deliciously mocking voice.

She hits the wall and her pulse thrums wildly in her throat. "Your soul..."

"Bingo. Finally, a correct answer." He grins. "I don't have one."

He's an inch away and the familiar warm smell radiating from him makes her weak. She know's she'll have to fight him off. Escape. But how? She has no weapons and the shock of it all has made her weak to her core.

"Angel..." She whispers faintly, pressing every inch of her body into the cold wall behind her.

He leans in and inhales sharply. His eyes growing dark and intense. He's hungry. "You know, I can't remember the last time I had a Slayer. It's been too long."

She closes her eyes tightly, letting out a hiss when his finger trails from her cheek down her throat. She arches without meaning to and he chuckles softly. She jerks back, eyes wide and angry.

"Get away from me Angel." She growls softly.

"Make me." He menaces, smiling.

She leaps forward, hitting him hard and they tumble to the ground. If it had been a human woman, Angel would have killed her easily. Even a highly trained woman would have been easy to end. But this is a Slayer - this is Buffy and she's not so easy to get rid of. She manages to get on top, pinning his arms. It's a strain and a struggle to keep him pinned and he snarls, his face changed into a familiar form.

"Don't touch me." She whispers.

He laughs. "You realise I could easily break free, right?"

"So you say. Care to prove it?" She replies recklessly, sick to her core.

He pauses for a moment, smiles - and then jerks from beneath her, flipping them over so he's knees straddle her hips, one hand pinning her wrists, the other wrapped around her throat.

She glares up at him. He leans down and suddenly his eyes are warm, familiar - they're Angel's eyes. A blink and they're gone and his teeth and buried in her throat. The sensation is odd. It hurts initially... but now, a warmth spreads over her body and although she jerks and yanks her body furiously at first, she relax's and this feeling of bliss continues to control her.

She closes her eyes, body limp suddenly. She's tired. So damn tired of fighting and fighting. So tired of fighting evil - Demons and Vampires. It's enough to drive a girl crazy.

So she let's him do it. Continue to drain her. It doesn't feel so bad. Kinda nice. Relaxing and blissful even.

He let's go of her wrists and instead has on hand to the back of her head, the other resting on her arm. She's so warm. So deliciously warm and all he wants is to drink her dry. She tastes divine. He's tasted this before but now he wants to drink it all.

He pulls back slowly, reluctantly and she looks up at him, eyes slightly drooping. She's tired. Sick of it all. She frowns up at him. He strokes a hand down her face, trailing down to softly brush along her collarbones. She let's out a soft sigh.

"I don't think I'll ever have such an easy time trying to kill you. And it wouldn't be fun to do that anyway." He pauses thoughtfully, swiping with his tongue a bead of blood on his lower lip. "So I'll let you live today Slayer - and I'll leave you with a choice."

She reaches a hand up, in her dazed state from lack of blood and trails a finger down his cheek. The movement brings her scent to him again and he growls low, shaking his head to focus on anything but the sweet taste of her blood.

"You can join me." He whispers softly. "Or die."

He leans down and roughly claims her lips, digging his sharpened teeth into it. Her fingers lightly trace his vampiric form, not flinching when he draws blood. He stands and leaves her there, on the ground in a mausoleum. And she remains there for a long time, looking after him with such longing that it slowly breaks her heart. Reluctantly, she climbs to her feet, weak and drained, and begins to make her way out of the mausoleum.


End file.
